


what doesn't kill you (makes you stronger)

by LMoriarty



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Flirting, Blow Jobs, Episode: s03e13 Til Death Do Us Part, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempts, Insecurity, Kissing, M/M, Missing Scene, Misunderstandings, Post-Episode: s03e13 Til Death Do Us Part, Rough Kissing, Wedding Rings, and it gets the job done so i guess they're not wrong, at the very very end, except not really, for ironic purposes only, this should be tagged E but i refuse, well they think it's pretty smooth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 19:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14087997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMoriarty/pseuds/LMoriarty
Summary: He's been to Heaven, knows precisely what Hell is like. Cain knows exactly what's waiting for him once he dies, and yet hestill wants to die.Lucifer... doesn't get it.





	what doesn't kill you (makes you stronger)

**Author's Note:**

> don't read this if you know me (i'm looking @ you aether)

If there's one thing that Lucifer can't comprehend, it's  _wanting_ to die.

Not wanting to live is one thing. People get to a low point, feel like there's no way out, and don't want to be alive anymore— Lucifer  _gets_ that. Has been there himself, technically, hence his fall, hence his vacation, hence the fact that he had his  _wings_ cut off to make sure he could never return to neither Hell nor Heaven.

But.

There is a difference between not wanting to be alive, and wanting to die.

Mortals see those words and think they mean the same thing, and to them, Lucifer supposes it does. But not to him. Not to an angel, fallen or not. Not to the  _Devil_.

Not being alive means not being there anymore. But  _dying_ , specifically? That means going up or down. Lucifer's been to both, and neither are particularly enjoyable, especially for humans. It's torture, either way; blatantly unhappy memories replaying forever, or unhappy ones that are just disguised as being happy. An eternity of suffering, no matter which direction your death takes you.

And Cain  _knows_ that.

He's been to Heaven, knows precisely what Hell is like. Cain knows exactly what's waiting for him once he dies, and yet he  _still wants to die_.

Lucifer... doesn't get it.

It's been an eternity since he was banned from Heaven, years since he ditched Hell, and Lucifer  _never wants to go back_. He wouldn't even be in the same situation, if he did. The angels might not be happy to see him, but Lucifer was once Samael, archangel, and they'll let him back into their ranks. The demons will drag him to the throne themselves, all too eager to kneel back down at his feet. He'd be  _welcomed_ , but still he doesn't want to return.

Cain would be tortured, yet he does.

Regardless of how boring Earth has supposedly gotten, things are always evolving, growing, changing. Give it a couple years and there will be new types of food, of music, of sex— Lucifer can't imagine ever thinking it to be 'Hell on Earth', as Cain had proclaimed.

So, no, Lucifer doesn't understand  _why_ Cain wants to die. But he does understand that he  _does_ , and Lucifer knows he'll do whatever he has to do to make that happened. He made a promise. A  _deal_.

And Lucifer Morningstar always keeps his deals.

The only issue is that, now that he knows Marcus is really Cain... he  _likes_ him. Lucifer's never known anyone that's been wronged by his Father before, so spending time with someone who  _gets it_ is... new. Interesting.

(He's just a little bit in love.)

And, though Lucifer will do whatever it takes to kill Cain, he also finds himself not particularly wanting anything to work.

It certainly doesn't help that everything Lucifer comes up with is something that Cain has already  _tried_. He has thousands upon thousands of suicide attempts under his belt, and, Devil or not, Lucifer... can't really offer much.

So, it's not a particularly big surprise when Cain shows up at Lux. Lucifer already knows how the conversation will go— they'll say some pleasantries, perhaps Lucifer will offer him some alcohol, then Cain will tell him the deal's off since he's been absolutely no help.

Except. That's not what happens.

It's not even why he's  _there_.

"Lucifer," greets Cain, entering the penthouse. "We need to talk."

He glances over, glass of whiskey in his hand. Lucifer's eyebrows raise, because really.  _Really_. "We need to talk?" he repeats, amused. Lucifer wonders if the insinuation is on purpose —  their undercover assignment a week prior did, after all, involve marriage and holding hands and gentle looks and  _kissing_ , just that once — or if it's just a slip of the tongue, a turn of phrase. "Why, are you breaking up with me, Cain?"

"Marcus," corrects Cain. "And no, I'm not..." he shakes his head, exasperated, " _breaking up_ with you. But we never—"

"Had sex?" interrupts Lucifer, if only to delay the inevitable. He doesn't particularly want to see Cain go. Well, doesn't want him to  _leave_. Lucifer wouldn't particularly mind seeing Cain walk away, since, well. Those pants look rather tight, and he knows —  _knows_  — what a lovely ass the man has. "You're right. We should do that. I have a lovely bed just around the corner," he suggests, and stands, as if to walk that way.

"Sit back down," Cain says, and Lucifer does, albeit begrudgingly. He shifts from foot to foot, then walks forward to sit down next to him. "We never, uh. Talked about the op," says Cain, looking incredibly uncomfortable. "Commitment jokes aside, that is, we didn't talk about— about the. Uh, the kiss. The... yeah. We never talked about the kiss. And we need to."

"It was for the... op, as you put it," says Lucifer, because it was. It  _was_. There's absolutely no other reason behind him kissing Cain, certainly nothing to do with the fact that he  _learned_ and  _listened_ and  _cared enough to fix_ , all of which reminds Lucifer solely and entirely of  _love_. "Married couple, remember? They tend to kiss. With the audience there, well, it seemed appropriate."

"It wasn't," Cain says, then swallows. "Appropriate. It wasn't appropriate. And it can never happen again. You can't... do that again.  _We_ can't do that again."

Lucifer examines him, caught off guard by the sheer... whatever it is that Cain's expressing. It's not vehemence, exactly, though he clearly means what he's saying. It just sounds a lot like— fear. The thought is ridiculous, because regardless of everything else this is still  _Cain_ , first murderer, brother killer. Lucifer has no business trying to identify other people's emotions when he can't even identify his own, but. The thought sticks with him, accurate or not. It sounds like  _fear_.

"Why not?" he asks, gently; a subtle attempt to lighten the mood. Cain is normally so much more put together than this, and it's interesting, intriguing, he wants to know  _more_. "I'm an exquisite kisser, dear. And even  _better_ in bed."

"Lucifer,  _stop_ ," Cain instructs, and Lucifer knows he will. Stop, that is. Free will, consent... he isn't willing to compromise that, not for anything. This  _thing_ between them, the banter, it falls under that.  _Everything_ falls under that. "I'm serious. I'm your boss—"

"—hardly—"

"—and it's not okay," continues Cain, acting as if Lucifer never interrupted, which is fair enough even if he's  _right_. Consultant, not detective, and besides, absolutely and without question the Devil; Cain wields no power over him. "It's not  _okay_."

Lucifer stills. He's heard that one before, hundreds of times,  _thousands_ , and he's not really interested in hearing it again, not ever, certainly not  _now_ and definitely not from  _Cain_. "You need to leave," he says, startlingly serious. His face is purposely blank, all playfulness gone, because  _no_. Not a chance. He's spent so much time ensuring that his club is  _safe_ for his patrons, and is not by any means compromising on that now.

Cain recoils. "What?"

"You need to leave," repeats Lucifer, and a flash of anger slips through his mask as he stands back up. Cain remains sitting, though visibly confused. "I don't know why I thought— I suppose, though it's been a few millennia, you've spent all that time on Earth with... these people's archaic views, but being interested in the same sex isn't  _wrong_ , lieutenant. You need to leave."

"What," repeats Cain, though this time it comes out less surprised, more baffled. Like he never expected Lucifer to make that leap in logic, even though it's the only leap  _to_ make, even though it's  _obvious_ where he was going with that. "No, Lucifer, that's not..." he sighs. "It's not okay because— because—"

Lucifer cuts him off because he knows knows  _knows_ what comes next, and he's not even remotely interested in hearing it, "Because gays are sinners, yes? Dear old Dad never actually  _said_ that, course, but you people do so love to justify your hatred—"

Cain stands, fast. He looks upset, or angry, or, or, or— huh.  _Huh_. He grabs Lucifer by his shirt, tugs him in; closer, closer, closer until their lips clash together. It's like their first kiss, only not, because it's a thousand times rougher, because there's no audience, because  _Lucifer_ is the one caught off guard here. He had thought— except now Cain was—

When Lucifer doesn't return the kiss, mind too busy trying to figure out precisely where he went wrong, why he didn't see this coming, Cain stops and starts to pull away. Lucifer doesn't let him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him back in. He kisses back, harsher, angrier; the two of them can never be soft, not together, the first fallen and the first murderer. Lucifer grins against Cain's mouth, nicking his lip on teeth, drawing blood.

Their bodies are pressed together, shoulders hips  _cocks_ aligned effortlessly, perfectly, Lucifer and Cain and Cain and Lucifer merging together, mixing, two people separately and one person combined; his hands are under Cain's shirt, feeling him up, memorizing the feel of his muscles, the feel of him in general, dicks touching not-touching.

Lucifer pulls back, mouth bloody. One hand rests on Cain's waist and the other presses to his chest, feeling his pulse, listening to it, wondering what it'll take to make it race, make it burst. "It can never happen again, hm?" he murmurs, because that's what he said. Because that's what he  _just said_.

Cain laughs, a little breathless, then goes back in for another kiss. He's so eager it's tantalizing, he wants nothing more than to  _devour_ him, but no, no, not yet. Lucifer leans out of the way just in time, steadying Cain so he doesn't topple over and embarrass himself. "Darling, as eager as I am to go back to kissing you, you  _did_ say never," Lucifer points out. "I need to hear you say yes, first. I need to hear you say it's okay."

"I want to kiss you, and I want you to kiss me, so  _yes_ , Lucifer," Cain insists, no hesitation, and he seems to be telling the truth. Lucifer wonders how much he'll regret it in the morning, but figures that's a tomorrow problem because he says  _yes_ , says  _I want_ , and that's all Lucifer needs.

Lucifer's mouth is back on Cain's in an instant, and he's shoving him backwards, towards the stool Cain just removed himself from. As soon as Cain's sitting, Lucifer's in his lap, legs on either side of him. If Lucifer had been less experienced, had been anyone other than himself, it could've been awkward — standing or sitting, he's taller than Cain, just a little, just  _enough_ , and has to curve his back for their lips to touch — but five years of experience has ensured he's rather good at this.

Cain grabs Lucifer's hips, digging fingers into his skin. It's hard enough to bruise, though Lucifer doesn't so much as wince; if anything, he leans into the touch, urging Cain to press deeper stronger harder into his skin, marking him,  _claiming_ him. "How far," he falters, swallowing hard when Lucifer presses his mouth to Cain's neck. "How far are we taking this?"

"As far as you wish," Lucifer murmurs, scraping his teeth along Cain's jugular. Being the first murderer is bound to result in some interesting kinks, and he's proven right when Cain tilts his neck for better access. "As far as you  _desire_."

"Desire," repeats Cain, quietly. Lucifer isn't sure if he was meant to hear or not, but he does, and he pulls back to see if Cain has anything else to say. They stare at each other for a second, two, then Cain very slowly thrusts his hips — his  _dick_  — upwards, against Lucifer's.

Lucifer laughs, surprised and pleased and excited all at once, thrilled at the direction they're taking this. "All you had to do was ask, dear," he says, and grinds down into Cain's lap. Cain gasps at the sensation, but Lucifer doesn't stop, repeating the motion again and again and again until he can hear Cain's breathing turn rugged. And then, just when things are heating up, right as Cain goes from vaguely hard to tenting his jeans—

It's over.

Lucifer stands up, pulling himself away from Cain. He's smug, and it surely shows on his face, though Cain just stares at him looking baffled. "You should really do something about that," he comments, eyeing the somewhat impressive outline in Cain's jeans.  
  
"Get on your knees," suggests Cain.

Lucifer waits, but nothing more comes. There's no force, no threats. Just those four words. Free will matters to Cain, then, too, and that shouldn't be a turn on but it  _is_ , cock stirring in his trousers.

Their eyes meet. A second passes, then three. Then five.

Then Lucifer is on his knees.

He peers up at Cain. "Here I am, darling," murmurs Lucifer, hands on Cain's legs, aching to tug them apart. "I hope you don't expect me to call you  _sir_." Though he will, won't he? If Cain wishes. He's the best lay of people's life for a reason, willing to do whatever they want, scream or moan or swear or  _call them sir_ , call them anything they want, anything but—

"How about  _dad_?" offers Cain. Lucifer stares, horrified, and he laughs. "I'm  _kidding_. You don't need to call me sir. Marcus is just fine."

"Cain," Lucifer counters, because that is his  _name_. The only one that he will ever consider to be real, the only name that  _counts_ — Lucifer is fully aware he's being hypocritical but he can't bring himself to care, because Marcus Pierce is a dad-damn  _joke_ of a name (no matter how amusing it might be to say 'are you going to pierce me with that dick of yours, Pierce?'). "Can't I call you Cain?"

"Not unless you want me to call you Samael," he says, and it's a taunt as much as it is the truth, the truth as much as it is a refusal. Lucifer is perfectly capable of hearing the underlying  _no_. Cain has a file on him, after all, has to be aware of his disdain for his birth name; knows damn well that Lucifer won't want to be called Samael. But.

But.

A long time ago, Cain and Samael were acquaintances; friends, of a sort, in a place where friends did not yet exist, perhaps still don't. He knew him. He  _knows_ him. And, though Lucifer is prone to punching holes into walls when he hears that name, there is... something there, when it's Cain. Something familiar.

And isn't that the biggest fuck you to Dad he could ever give? Getting called  _Samael_ when he sucks Cain's cock.

"So," says Lucifer. "Cain it is."

Cain stares. "You want me to call you—"

"Save it for the sex, darling," Lucifer interrupts. He gently pries Cain's knees apart, careful,  _slow_ , because this is as much foreplay as they're going to get. He slides his right hand up his thigh, towards the zipper, towards Cain's  _cock_. It twitches in anticipation, all too eager to get started, and Lucifer watches in amusement.

Cain is less amused, threading a hand through Lucifer's hair and attempting to tug him closer. Lucifer laughs, hot breath on the crotch of Cain's jeans. "I was going to check if you were sure, but that answers that, doesn't it?"

He groans, pulling harder at Lucifer's hair. "Please," Cain says,  _begs_ , and the sound is like music to Lucifer's ears, like extraordinary symphonies and the rapid soaring stunning pace of Vivaldi's Presto, like everything there is and everything there has ever been and everything there ever will be, always, held eternally in this moment, in the sound of his pleads. "Samael. Please."

Lucifer grins, eagerly undoing the button and zipper of Cain's jeans. He wastes no time in pulling out his cock, gently tugging it through the hole in his boxers. Cain's hips reflexively jerk upwards once he's got a grip on him, and Lucifer laughs, letting go. His hands reach up to, instead, hold Cain in place; an iron cage, except not, because hands fingers bones can break, because his grip is easily escapable— only he  _won't_ escape it, won't even try, because he wants this just as much as Lucifer does, and damn, isn't that lovely.

He lowers his tongue to the leaking tip, just to tease him, then easily slides the entire length into his mouth. It's impressive, and anyone else would choke, but Lucifer's hardly  _anyone else_. He supposes he must have  _quite_ the file, then, distantly recalling one of the first conversations Lucifer had with 'Marcus'. The thought is there-then-gone, because he has more important things to think about than a file, like the dick he's sucking, like—

The moan that comes out of Cain is exquisite, and to reward him Lucifer hums, mouth still full. He's done this a million times before, he's good at it,  _great_ , but something about doing it with Cain rather than a random stranger from his club is... exciting. Exhilarating.

Absolutely fucking fantastic.

Cain mumbles something that sounds like  _Samael_ , and Lucifer swallows around his cock, quickly setting up a rhythm. He alternates between licking and sucking, fast paced with smooth transitions.

Once that starts, Cain doesn't  _stop_ moaning, not until moans turn into grunts and grunts turn into a low guttural groan as he comes.

Lucifer swallows all of it.

He pulls away, leaning back onto his heels; it's a good thing nobody decided to come up to the penthouse— or perhaps a bad thing. Lucifer has no shame, and would have no problem putting on a show, though Cain might object to the experience. Hm, has he tried dying of embarrassment yet? "Cain," Lucifer says, smirking and smiling, both at once and neither on their own. "Get on your knees."

Cain laughs. "Desire," he says, to Lucifer, to himself, and sinks to the floor. It sounds like an admission, like  _love_ , and Lucifer pretends he doesn't hear. Cain tucks himself away, zipping up his jeans as Lucifer's grin widens. For some, their own taste is a turn off, but immortals can't really be bothered to care and when Lucifer leans in to kiss him, Cain eagerly kisses back. He slides forward, trying to get closer to Lucifer; first his hand is on Lucifer's thigh, then his crotch, pressing down against his straining cock.

"Really," Lucifer laughs, extremely amused, impossibly smug. As hard as he is, he's dealt with far worse torture than a hand on his covered dick. "If you're about to have a meltdown over what just happened and leave me hanging, dear, then that's," he looks pointedly at Cain's hand, "just cruel."

"Just because you thought I was some sort of homophobe doesn't mean this is my first rodeo,  _dear_ ," Cain counters, conveniently omitting the fact that he'd definitely been freaking out when he first showed up. He presses down harder. "Only fair to return the favor."

Lucifer kisses him again, as gentle as he can. It's not very gentle in the end, though neither are surprised; first fallen and first murderer and all that. Neither can resist using teeth, chasing after the scent feeling taste of the other's blood. "I knew there was a reason I liked you," he offers, then gestures pointedly to his cock. "Well then, get to it, darling."

Cain pushes at Lucifer's shoulders, and though Lucifer is fully capable of staying where he is, he lets Cain lower him all the way to the floor. Lucifer doubts they're going to go for anything other than oral — the lube is, though only a short distance from them, simultaneously too far away — and he's right. It takes a bit more effort to release his cock than it was for Lucifer to free Cain's, since he's in a suit rather than jeans, but it's out quick enough.

Cain wastes no time in getting his mouth on him, and Lucifer groans, sliding fingers through his hair. He tugs at it, hard, as hard as he can; the first murderer has a thing for pain, because of  _course_ he does. "You look really, uh," he moans, eyes rolling back, "Ha. Good like that, Cain."

Cain hums something, and Lucifer takes it to mean  _of course I do_ , because he seems like the type. Lucifer rests his head on the ground, no longer willing — perhaps even unable, except no, he's stronger than that — to exert enough energy to keep himself upright.

"I have a, ah, bed, you know," Lucifer grunts, grabbing a fistful of Cain's shirt; anchoring himself in his spot, in this moment, this feeling, in the sensation of a tongue swirling around his dick and a hard floor pressing against his curving back. "Real comfy, and uh, soft. Softer than the floor."

Cain leans back, cock falling from his mouth. There's a whimper building at the back of Lucifer's throat, but he catches it before it can slip out, pulling up just enough so he can look at him. "Do you  _really_ want to be having a conversation with me right now?" Cain questions. "Or do you want me to get you off?"

Lucifer contemplates the question, even though his dick is aching to be sucked. He wants to get off, yes, of course, but he wants something else, too, and it's just as important. He's more than capable of suffering through an unfinished blowjob. "I want," he says, slowly, "you to stay."

Cain stares. "What?" he asks.

"I know I haven't been helpful," explains Lucifer, using words he has chosen discarded chosen again, words he hand-picked for this exchange all the while dreading the inevitability of it. "Every death I come up with is something you've already tried. It's only a matter of time until you realize our partnership is useless, and then you'll leave, but... I don't want you to leave."

"Lucifer, I was literally just sucking your cock," Cain points out. "You want to talk  _feelings_ instead?"

He sits up, looking at Cain for a moment. Lucifer sighs, shoving his dick back into his pants. "I suppose I do," he says. Lucifer stands, and after a second, Cain does as well. "It's not that I wasn't enjoying myself, to be clear. You give fantastic blowjobs, truly—"

"Are you seriously trying to justify—" Cain sighs. "You're an idiot. I don't  _care_ that you stopped me, Lucifer, I care that you think I'm going to just up and leave."

"You were going to," Lucifer counters. He leans against a stool, the same one Lucifer made Cain come on. "Before the deal. You were about to  _leave_. You can't blame me for thinking you might do it again."

Cain sits next to him. "I've lost... so many people, okay? Everyone I've ever cared about. You know that. Getting attached to anybody, even you— it's the worst thing I could ever do," he says. "But as proven by... what just happened, I am. Attached. And I wouldn't leave without telling you." Oh. Oh shit.

Oh  _shit_ , he actually likes Lucifer. As in,  _likes_ Lucifer, which is... all kinds of unexpected. He figured that Cain was just placating him, there for the blow job and not much else, but if he's not— if he's  _not_ —

Lucifer's  _into_ Cain. Shouldn't be, perhaps, but he's attractive, amusing, and they're  _similar_ , disgustingly so, perfectly so. He  _likes_ Cain, is just a little bit in love with him, so if Cain likes him back, then he's  _down_. It'll be a colossal fail, of course it will, it can't be anything else, but he's willing to  _try_ in a way he wasn't with Chloe.

Lucifer straightens up, stepping between Cain's legs and pressing their lips together for a second, two. "First fallen and first murderer," he points out, peering down at him. "What a terrible couple we would make."

"What a lovely couple," counters Cain. "What a truly, astonishingly, unexpectedly lovely couple. We've both suffered. We've both been destroyed by your father. We've both been scarred, even if your physical ones are gone now. We've both... loved too much. And hated too strongly. I get it. I get  _you_ , Lucifer." He pauses, then adds, "Samael." It comes out just a little breathless, and Lucifer kisses him again, harder.

"I don't want to love you and then lose you," admits Lucifer, because it's worth saying. Because, as emotionally stunted as he is, this matters. "I don't want to fall, again, and then have it be for nothing,  _again_."

"It won't be for nothing," Cain promises, entwining their fingers. "Regardless of whether or not I die, it won't be for  _nothing_. It'll be for us."

Lucifer laughs, because that's just... damn. Quite possibly the cheesiest thing he's ever heard. He really expected more out of the first murderer. "Lucifer and Marcus," Lucifer says, only a little sarcastic. "Cain and Samael. At any rate, I suppose it's rather fitting, you and I."

Cain pauses. "To be clear, I'm not going to call you my boyfriend," he says,  _means it_ , and Lucifer thinks, has no choice but to think:  _this is right_. This is what he's been waiting for. Not Chloe, no matter how much he had thought it was. Cain. He's been waiting for  _Cain_. And if he wants monogamy, wants a label, then that's what he'll get. "We're not twelve. If we want a label, it's partner."

"The detective is my partner," counters Lucifer. He pauses, contemplative. "Though I imagine it would be weird to call you boyfriend. So, those are both out. Not that we need a label, immortal beings and all, but if we were to get one—"

"We could be..." Cain trails off. "Lovers just sounds trivial. Friends with benefits is flat out wrong. But we could go with," he's silent for a moment, then two, then sighs. "I can't think of anything."

"Firsts?" offers Lucifer. "First murderer and first fallen. The firsts." Cain stares. "Okay, fine, that's ridiculous. But I don't hear you coming up with anything better."

"Husbands."

"I think we had quite enough of  _that_ during our undercover stint, dear," Lucifer says, not even entertaining the possibility of Cain being serious. It isn't just because of his, well. Trust issues, commitment issues, no doubt every other genre of issues. He doesn't consider it to be a legitimate proposal because, one, not even Cain moves that fast, and two, he surely knows Lucifer would never accept anything less than an extremely dramatic and extravagant proposal. "Though, if we wanted to make a joke of it, I could go and grab the rings."

Cain stares. "You have the rings?" he questions. "They were supplied by the department—"

"What, you thought I would wear some cheaply made department-issue wedding ring?" Lucifer scoffs. "Of course I wouldn't. I bought us some."

"You bought us wedding rings," says Cain, slowly, processing. Then he's standing, pressing up against Lucifer in the process, bodies easily aligning back in place. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. His cock throbs in his pants. "You bought me a literal  _wedding ring_ for a single undercover op?" and that sounds like anger, but Lucifer knows it's not, can recognize  _incredulity_ when he hears it.

"Yes, obviously, I just said that," says Lucifer, only a little bit dismissive. He has millions,  _billions_ of dollars sequestered away; a couple rings are nothing. "Was that a no on grabbing them? It could be amusing, presuming people notice. We could say we eloped! They'd even believe us, what with me being me— your involvement would be harder to fathom, but hey, everyone goes crazy once they've got enough drinks in them."

Cain presses his lips to Lucifer's, and he lets him, encourages it by kissing back; the hand not holding Cain's ends up against his back, gently urging him closer, closer, closer, even though there's no way to physically  _get_ any closer. Cain shifts his weight, in the process resting a leg against Lucifer's crotch. He lets it casually dig in, and  _oh_ , that's just not fair.

"I think it's time for you to meet my bed, darling," Lucifer murmurs against his lips, heavenfire in his eyes,  _love_ in his soul.

He thinks he understands, now. Why Cain wants — wanted, just maybe — to die. How all that loss drove him to the brink, made him lose hope. Forced him to look around and think: Hell would be kinder.

If Cain were to die— if Lucifer were to lose him, after all this bloody  _heartache_ —

"Lead the way," Cain says. "And, hm. Grab the rings. First time as a married couple — fake or not — that's gotta be special."

Lucifer gets it. He  _gets it_.

He'd probably want to die, too.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @ [laniemoriarty](https://laniemoriarty.tumblr.com/)


End file.
